


Gold Rush

by Daerwyn



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), homeless, nomad musician, original lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalia Rascu wasn't anything big. After a tragic accident, killing her parents, Natalia was raised by her cousin, and after finishing her A levels, she high-tailed it from her home in a small village in Wales to become a superstar. Only, she didn't. For two years she barhopped in hopes she'd meet someone that could give her a record deal, but that never happened. Soon, it became barhops just for food or a place to stay. </p><p>It wasn't the life she dreamed of. Until a gig in Liverpool where Ed Sheeran walks up on stage and asks her to tour with him as an opening act. Once that happens, doors open and Natalia knows she'll finally be able to return home with something to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I never quite understood the basic movements of every day life. Perhaps it was because I didn’t have an every day life. I was barely scraping by, the only possession my guitar case with a beat-up, barely passable guitar, a pair of jeans, and a hoodie. Three quid in my pocket never left my sight or any place past my reaching distance. It was all I had left.

I snapped the latches to my guitar case together, carressing the frayed leather, before standing and facing the crowd, my cherry red guitar hanging from my neck.

“Hello, you lot,” I spoke into the microphone of the nearly overflowing pub. “My name’s Natalia Rascu and I’ll play some songs this evening. Hope you enjoy.” I was always nervous talking in front of big crowds like this. Never really knew what to say. So I stepped back from the mic, clearing my throat, and picking some strings on my guitar. The sweet sound that came out was perfectly tuned and I strummed it once with my worn pick and nodded, stepping back up to the mic, “Right, this song is at the top of the charts. Price Tag by Jessie J. Please, feel free to sing along. Lord knows that the alcohol sings.” 

Some laughed, but I just gave a nervous smile and began strumming. 

“Seems like everybody’s got a price, I wonder how they sleep at night,” I started off, rocking only slightly to the beat. My eyes flickered over the dimly lit pub. Most of the people didn’t pay attention to me, only to those they were with. Beers and other toxic drinks I never dared touch were chucked back, and I found the whole scene very otherworldly.

Only a few of the very drunk patrons sang along, singing at the top of their lungs near the back of the pub, by the bar. I moved onto the next song after only a small sip of water.

The crowd only got drunker.

As I finished my favorite song, Kiss Me, I stopped playing. “Thank you, you guys have been a great crowd.”

Though it wasn’t true, I wanted to be polite. Afterall, how could she get another gig here if the owner thought I was rude? Fighting tears at how lack of interest the crowd was, I began to rethink how my life was going to take a turn for the better. 

I had left my cousin’s home in search of a career in music, something I loved more than anything else. I had left with a hundred pounds in my pocket, my guitar and case, and my cell phone. The phone was gone, now. I had no money to pay for it, and had sold it to some guy on the street. My hundred pounds was now only three, and my guitar case was barely held together. The free bumper stickers people disgarded held together the seams.

I snapped the locks shut once more, my beloved guitar protected inside. 

I stood and nearly ran into someone who was mounting the stage, “Oh, I’m sorry,” I rushed out. Taking a step back and stared into the bright blue eyes of the near victim. I recognized him immediately, how could I not? He was all over the radio, the buses, the telly. “I’m really sorry.”

“No harm done,” he insisted. He shifted, almost as if he was uncomfortable, his hands resting in the pockets of his jeans. “You were great tonight.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” I blushed, glancing at the crowd who didn’t even seem interested that this celebrity was one stage. “That’s wonderful to hear from you.” Wonderful? Merlin, it was fantastic.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be interested in touring with me?” he asked. 

My guitar case almost slipped from my grasp as I tried to remain calm. Tour. With him? Was he high?

“I haven’t got anything original,” I said quietly, trying to keep myself from getting too hopeful. “I’m sorry, but-“

“Don’t need to,” the ginger man insisted. “I can help with that, if you’d like. But you’re great. Really, I’d love to have you open for me. Uh, I’m Ed Sheeran, by the way.”

“I know… Natalia Rascu,” I introduced. He offered a hand and I shifted my guitar case to my other hand and grasped his own. I couldn’t fight the wide-eyed look that spread across my face, “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” he gave me a small smile. “What do you say?”

“I’d… I’d really, _really_ like that,” I breathed, and I cleared my throat, blushing. “I mean…yeah, that’d be great.”

Ed Sheeran grinned back at me, “Great! Stu can give you a call and get you all the details.”

“Oh… I haven’t got a phone,” I blushed, giving a shrug, and diverting my eyes from his own. 

“Right, well, email then?” He seemed to falter a bit.

I struggled to remember what my email address even was. “No, sorry. I, uh, don’t use that stuff.”

“Oh, well, what do you say heading to the bus and we can sort this all out, then? Swap info? Get started?” he offered, not seeming to be deterred.

“Is that alright?” I asked before I could filter my words. “I mean, you’re probably busy and have a load of things to do tonight-“

“Not at all,” he gave a bright smile. “Come on, let’s get you a big gig!”

I gripped the guitar case tightly and watched him turn around, hopping down from the stage. He glanced back at me, making sure I was following, before pushing his way through the crowd.

“So, why are you here, then?” I called over the drunken roars.

“Just stopped in, actually, to check out venues,” Ed called back to me, giving me a glance. “Thought this place looked nice, got inside, and heard you singing. Had to fight my way to the front. They thought you were amazing.”

I doubted this, as they had showed very little interest, “Thanks.”

We finally made it out the door and began to walk down the street. Paid in advance, I didn’t bother to find the owner of the place. I had gotten a meal, and that was all that mattered.

“So, no originals, hmm?”

I shrugged as we walked side by side down the dark street. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed three in the morning. I always did love Liverpool. “No, I just can’t unlock that inspiration. It’s in there, I can feel it, but… I don’t know how to get it out in song form.”

“Well, you have any original tunes, then? Without lyrics?” he asked, his hands shoved in his pockets as we walked down the sidewalk.

“Yeah, sure, those aren’t really the hard parts, are they?” I asked nervously. We rounded a corner and that’s when I spotted the sleek tour bus, matching the midnight sky, parked. Lights were on inside and the very distinct noise of someone playing music.

“Well, this is me. Go on in, don’t be shy,” he insisted, opening the door for me.

I mounted the steps slowly, almost afraid of what I’d see inside. I don’t know what I expected, to be honest, but it wasn’t what I got. It was a lot more normal. A small living room like area had a creamy colored sofa along a whole wall, and the other had a table, two chairs, and a small kitchen. Between the two walls was a hall that led to two doors, and before the doors were four beds, in bunk bed style. 

Ed must have slept in the back room.

“Well, let’s see, tour starts next month,” Ed told me, sitting down on the couch. He switched off some stereo system that was playing the radio, making the bus completely silent. He gestured for me to join him, and I rested my guitar case on the floor before obliging. Smoothing out the ripped purple leggings, I nervously fidgeted with my jean shorts. 

A whole month before the tour? I’d have to figure out how to stay in the city for a month, gigging for meals, then. I hardly ever stayed in the same city for more than a week, as there was only so much you could do with the usual crowd. I didn’t have a big name, didn’t have a fancy style. 

“So, let’s hear something.”

I blinked, glancing up from the stitching pattern on the leather, “Sorry?”

“Can you play something?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Clumsily, I unlatched the lid of the guitar case and pulled my guitar out. I played with the strings a bit before glancing at him, “What would you like to hear?”

He thought about it for a second, before shrugging, “One of your original tunes. Surprise me.”

And with just two words, the pressure was on. I bit my lip, and plucked some strings at random until I found a pattern I liked. And I added as much as I could. I never onced glanced up, afraid of what I might see on his face. Instead, I kept my eyes closed and played as long as I felt comfortable with. I strummed one last time and settled back, opening my eyes. 

He was nodding, and I noticed a pen in his hand as he scribbled in a notebook. Wow, that was … unexpected.

“Wait here.”

“Um, okay…”

But he was already up and sprinting for the bedroom door of the tour bus. I glanced at the notebook to see chords written out and some random words.

He returned with a guitar. One of his many.

“This is Felix,” he introduced. “Felix, this is…Nat...?” She didn’t expect him to remember her name, so she wasn’t that bothered.

“Natalia,” I supplied.

“Miss Natalia,” Ed finished. "Sorry. Horrid with names." He ran a hand through his ginger hair before strumming the strings.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped at his oddness. It wasn’t expected, but it was great at the same time. It didn’t intimidate me at all, and actually made me feel more at ease. And he repeated the exact same tune I had played earlier. How did he do that?

“So, just try to put words to it,” he insisted. “What do you like?”

“Music,” I replied automatically.

“Okay, boyfriend? Girlfriend? Family?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen my family for years,” I replied. “No boyfriend.”

He furrowed his eyebrow, “Okay. Well, what motivates you?”

I wanted to say food, beacuse that’s really why I gigged these days. I needed food. But I refused to go home, because I didn’t even know where home was anymore. And my pride refused to let me quit. To let me give up.

“Well, surviving,” I said slowly. “I mean, every day we fight to survive. It’s a cut throat competition, and I don’t want to lose that competition.”

“Good,” he approved. He strummed again and started to put in some lyrics, leaving empty spaces for me to fill in. 

But really, what ran through my mind, was the fact that Ed Sheeran was actually helping me write a song. Me. A homeless girl from Wales. I really, really hoped that I didn’t wake up from this dream.


	2. Chapter 2

“Would you like a drink?” Ed asked me after he seemed to find another tune. We had done three songs in an hour and I was literally on cloud nine. “We have beer.”

I paused from looking over the notes he had been taking. Flawless. “Um, well, I’ll have water, if that’s fine.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I wiped my eyes to keep the sleep from them and plucked a few strings of my guitar, getting the thing back in tune. “So, what’s your inspiration, then?”

He grabbed a glass from the cabinet over the sink and filled it up with tap. “My inspiration? Dunno, really. Always have had something. I suppose Van Morisson, Damien Rice, them.”

I nodded, accepting the glass from his hand, “Thanks.” He grabbed a beer and popped it open. “So, how did you know you were destined to do this, then?”

“I was at a Damien Rice concert, actually,” he admitted before he took a sip of his beer. “I was amazed at how it was just him on stage and he could control the whole place. How did you know you’d end up gigging in Liverpool?”

I shrugged, sipping the water before answering, “I travel all around Great Britain, actually. I don’t usually stay in one place for too long. I was fourteen, and my mother bought me a guitar for my birthday. I couldn’t put it down a single day for two years. It travelled with us, went to the beach with us.” I ran my fingers over the smooth red polish of the instrument on my lap. “My parents died when I was sixteen in a freak train accident. So, I moved in with my cousin and she encouraged my music. Took me to a few gigs to watch and stuff, get the feel of it. 

“And then she set up my very own gig.” I laughed quietly, “It was horrible. Screwed up, broke a few strings. But the next night, I was asked to come back. And as soon as I ran through a good gig, I knew I wanted to make it big and let everyone hear my music.”

He nodded, “And you moved out from your cousins? Where do you live now, then?”

“No where, everywhere?” I glanced out the tinted window. “I moved out at seventeen, have been roaming the country for about two years now.”

“I think we just found your inspiration, Natalia,” he grinned. He picked up Felix and started to strum a few chords, “It’s not a homeless life for me, it’s just I’m home less than I’d like to be.”

I must have shown my confusion, “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“Off of Loose Change, an EP I did in 2009,” he informed me.

“Oh, well what about the line, then?”

He grinned, “Want to do a duet?”

I raised an eyebrow, “How? The song’s already written.”

“I’m going to give you a bit of homework,” he spoke, strumming the chords. “But since you don’t seem to have an email or phone, I’ll have to teach you the chords so you can complete it promptly.”

“Okay,” I said confused. “And then?”

“You’re going to write the first and third verse, and I’ll do the second verse.”

Uh oh, “But-“

“Ah, don’t say you can’t,” he insisted. “Even if it’s crap, we can fix it.”

I closed my mouth, and instead worked on getting the chords right and the strumming pattern correct. “No, down instead of up that one time,” Ed corrected. I bit my lip as I concentrated, slowly doing the strumming pattern before picking up normal speed.

“Like this?” I asked.

He hummed an affirmative, before spouting out some lyrics, “Could I wake up next to you when we’re hitting double figures? Look into your eyes like I’m looking into double mirrors.”

I kept strumming, my eyes closed as I felt the beat. No lyrics could pop up in my head, and when the song ended I leaned back in the seat, taking a sip of water.

“Nothing?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No, but I’ll get something. I have to think of at least something.”

“Well when you get to wherever you’re staying, just listen to the song over and over again and something’s bound to get to you.”

I nodded, glancing at the three songs he had helped write for me. Well, that he had written while I strummed and put some input here and there. “Thank you, so much for this.” I gave a sincere smile. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“We were all at this point once,” he told me. “So, meet here tomorrow morning?” He glanced at the clock. “God, not early. I’ll be asleep until noon.” I followed his gaze and spotted the time. Nearly five in the morning. My eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry for keeping you so late.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” I insisted. “I don’t have a curfew.”

“Well, right then.” I packed up my guitar as he tossed the beer into the trash. “Where’re you crashing? I’ll walk you?”

“Oh, just down the street, I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “You don’t need to walk me.”

“Nonsense!” he insisted. “What proper bloke would I be if I didn’t?”

I felt my pulse hammer as I stood, “Really, there’s no need. I’ll meet you back here at what time?”

“Say one? I have a show at seven, so we can get a few good hours in.”

“Alright, I’ll be here at one,” I gave a smile, running a hand through my dark hair.  ”Thank you, again. So much!”

“Yeah, anytime, with a talent like yours,” he insisted. “Come on, let me walk you.”

“No, really, it’s fine,” I insisted. “You should sleep, it’s is nearly five, after all.”

He sighed, “Alright, you win.”

I gave a small laugh, “Right… thank you. I’ll see you later…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell Stuart to be expecting you,” he gave me a small smile of goodbye. I nodded, picking up my guitar case and turning towards the tour bus door.

“Great. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” he said as I climbed down the stairs. I didn’t look back as I hurriedly made my way up the sidewalk. I heard the tourbus door shut. As soon as I rounded the corner, I stopped and stared up at the dark gray sky. The sun rays were just beginning to peak over the horizon, but the thick clouds made that very difficult to spot.

I took a deep breath, glancing down both sides of the street, before making my way back to the pub from earlier. Finding a nice alleyway, I set my guitar case down, and leaned against the brick wall, sliding to the ground.

My fingers tapped against the board of the case, thinking up beats for tomorrow. I could be of some use, at least. 

 

CH. 3

 

A light sprinkle started to pour from the clouds. I gasped in surprise of the cold liquid and stood quickly, taking my guitar case with me as I moved for a different place to sleep for the night. I found a nice awning over a bakery that stretched over the alleyway across the street. Though my legs would get wet, my guitar case wouldn’t. That was all that mattered to me. 

I rested my back against the cool stone, and closed my eyes. Sleep would not be coming easily to me tonight.

I hummed the tune, mindlessly trying to pluck lyrics out of thin air. It was difficult, but I finally got something, “Maybe this is overdue, like a library book. I want you to be mine like a cherry flavoured heart drop. Could you make it any clearer, everything’s such a blur. I’ll say the words so you don’t have to say them first.” I opened my guitar case, finding a few scraps of paper and a pen and began to write down what I had sung previously. “So I grab my guitar bag, ducking through the thick lines. Gotta catch the train to make it to my next show on primetime. Forget the change, fine. I’ll just hitch a ride from the guy who does the base lines. Hey-ey,” I giggled to myself at how little sense that made and sighed as I leaned back on the brick. There was no way I’d finish this homework on time.

During my quiet street corner jam session, I failed to notice my company.

“So, do you just sit out in the rain for fun? Or are you waiting for a ride?”

I jumped and let out a gasp as I spotted a hooded figure standing against the wall near the front of the shop. His head was turned in my direction, and shadows distorted the image so I couldn’t see properly, “Did you follow me?” I demanded.

“Wanted to make sure you made to your place alright,” he shrugged. The hood dropped and the street light lit up his face. His ginger hair was matted with rain. “That was actually pretty good.”

“It sucks.”

“It has potential.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I shot back.

“Yeah, I followed you,” he shrugged. “So, is this what you always do? Do gigs for a meal and then sleep on the streets?”

I glanced away from him, towards my scuffed up trainers, “No. Sometimes they let me stay at the pub.”

“And this one?”

“Meal was more important, I reckon,” I remarked.

“Right, well, are you going to go psycho and murder me in my sleep?”

I glanced at him, “Why would I do that?”

“Right answer. Come on, you’re staying in the tourbus.”

“But-“

“We got an extra bunk. It’s for whoever feels like not booking a hotel room that night. That just so happens to be you tonight.”

“But I can’t just-“

He raised an eyebrow as he held out his hand to help me up, “Are you going to sleep in a nice warm, dry bed? Or are you going to sleep in the rain and get sick?”

I glanced at the puddles already forming, “I hate England.”

“The weather sucks, but the country isn’t that bad,” he insisted. “So?”

I was silent a moment as I thought it over. One option would leave me vulnerable to having my guitar stolen. The other was to have to deal with the fact that I was going to grow dependent on his help. 

I sighed and took his hand, pulling myself up. “Only for tonight.”

“Nah, until tour’s over,” he grinned. “You’ve been sucked in to my group of friends now. Too late to go back.”

I let go of his hand and brushed my wet jeans off, before reaching down and grabbing my dry guitar case.

“Right, let’s head back.”

It seemed like an even shorter walk to the tour bus than before, and he held open the door for me once more. I stepped inside, wiping some raindrops from my forehead.

“Right, through here is the bathroom,” he gestured to an open door beside a closed one. “There’s a shower too, feel free to help yourself to anything. And here’s your bed.” He walked through the hall and gestured to the bottom bunk on the left side. “I reckon it’s comfier than the couch. You can set your guitar by the couch, if you’d like. Stuart’s up here,” he beat the top bunk across the hall rather roughly. “Right, Stu?”

“Fuck off, Ed,” a grumble came.

I smiled to myself in amusement. “And,” Ed continued. “Fridge is stocked. Never go anywhere without it full. So… yeah.” He gave a nervous twitch with fixing his wet hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, and… thank you,” I said quietly.

“Anytime,” he insisted. He headed through the closed door opposite the bathroom and then the bus was silent. I took my black trainers off and placed them by the others, careful not to dirty the rest of the bus. I wiped my guitar case down with my sleeve, making sure it was completely dry, before placing it on the floor, by the chairs and table. 

After that was settled, I headed into the bathroom and made sure the door was shut before I turned on the light. I didn’t want to piss anyone off. I looked a right mess. My hair was damp, my skin looked melted, and my clothes clung to my skin. 

I put my hair into a bun, hoping it’d be manageable in the morning. Then, I slid my sweatshirt off until I was just in my dry, freshly washed from yesterday t-shirt. 

Gathering my hoodie in my arm, I exited the bathroom and back to the bunk I was meant to sleep in. I set my hoodie down at the foot of the bed and ran my fingers along the soft blanket. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I stared at the bottom of the empty bunk above me. Another few minutes went by with the quiet snore from the bunk diagnal to me, which Ed said was Stuart. I had no idea who Stuart was, probably a friend. 

So I thought over the crap lyrics I had made just a few minutes before and hoped I wasn’t completely worthless. This was my one chance. My one shot to make my name. My one opportunity to go back home with something to talk about. I couldn’t blow this.

 

CH. 4

 

Near eight in the morning, my eyes opened. The sun was shining through the bathroom window, directly onto my face. I shifted slightly and ran my hand over my face to block the light. That didn’t work very well.

“Why are you even up?” I heard a voice say from not too far away. My eyes reopened and I glanced near the foot of my bed. A back was blocking my view, and I didn’t recognize the voice. Wait, where was I? 

The events of last night came rushing back and I blinked as I realized I was in Ed Sheeran’s tour bus. In a bunk bed. And writing music with him.

So it wasn’t a dream.

“Didn’t sleep last night. Writing,” Ed’s voice sounded. He sounded exhausted and I heard a tumble of something, as it slipped from one of their hands. “Is she up yet?”

I shut my eyes immediately, staying still and breathing deeply.

“Nah, reckon she’ll be out for a while with how late you guys were up last night,” this Stuart said.

“Yeah, we were up pretty late. Hey, when she gets up, make some breakfast, yeah? I gotta head over to the grocery to see if they have any hot cocoa.”

“You sure that’s wise?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I dunno, Ed, you got fangirls crowding around outside, desperate for a touch of your hair.”

I could practically hear the eyeroll, “I’ll be right back, promise.”

“Whatever,” Stuart sighed. I heard the front door open and the figure near the foot of my bed moved. I counted backwards from one hundred until I moved. I sat up slowly, mindful of my head. 

“Morning!” Stuart greeted. I glanced over towards the source of the voice and spotted a bald man giving me a smile. “See you slept well, then? It’s a bit early.”

“Yeah… I don’t usually sleep long,” I admitted. “Morning, though. My name’s Natalia.”

He offered his hand, “Stuart.”

We stood there for an awkward silence, and we kind of just stared at each other, wondering what do to.

“Right, I’m in charge of breakfast. What would you like?” he asked, moving towards the fridge. I bit my lip nervously as he opened it. “We have just about anything.”

“Do you have eggs?” I asked quietly, unsure. “Or frozen waffles. Anything’s fine, really. I’ll eat anything.”

“Eggs and waffles it is,” he nodded, pulling some things out of the small half sized fridge. “My favourite combination. So, why don’t you clean up and by the time you get out of there, it’ll be ready.”

I glanced down at myself, nodding, “Alright.” I moved towards my guitar case to grab my spare clothes. “You’re welcome to the shower, if you’d like. There’s extra towels above the toilet. Soaps and such. Whatever you girls need in the shower.”

I gave a small laugh, “Thanks. I might have to take you up on that offer. I… I shouldn’t be long.”

“No need to rush, we’ve got all day.”

I nodded and gave a small smile of departure before I disappeared into the bathroom. I made sure to lock the door before staring at the shower, trying to figure out how to work it. After about two minutes, I got the water hot and running, before I stripped out of my clothes and slid inside. Dirt ran off my legs and down the drain, and I took a bit of a neutral scented shampoo and soaked it through my hair. It had been so long since I had a proper shower. Usually left out garden hoses and such that I could wash up on quickly - using a small bottle of soap you get from the hotels for free. Or sometimes bars from the pubs bathrooms. 

Quickly washing the rest of my body, I slid out of the shower and looked around for a towel. I spotted one folded neatly above the toilet, on a rack, and pulled it down, sliding it around my body and rubbing my skin dry. 

It felt amazing, being this clean. Like I was a kid again.

Dressed in my last pair of clean clothes, I exited the bathroom, using the towel to rub at my hair.

“Just in time!” Ed announced as he walked through, spotting the breakfast just being plated. He held up a box of cocoa powder. “Is anyone up for hot chocolate?”

I couldn’t help but give a small laugh, “I’m good, thank you.”

“More for me,” he insisted. “Stu?”

“No, I’ll have good English tea,” Stuart replied, taking a kettle off the electric stove top. Hardly full sized range, but it seemed to do the job. “Go on, dig in.”

I glanced at the three plates of food and chose the one with the least amount of food. I couldn’t eat much, or else I’d have a stomach ache all day. 

“So,” Ed gestured for me to sit down at the table. He sat across from me as Stuart poured tea. “I was wondering if you wrote anymore while I was gone?”

“Wrote stuff, has she?” Stuart asked.

“Um, no, not at all,” I admitted. “He’s written it all, really. I just kind of tap away on the guitar.”

“Never written a song before. She probably has, just doesn’t realize it. But she’s been revamping Homeless for me. It’s actually looking good.”

I blushed lightly, “It’s all over the place.”

“The best stuff starts that way,” he informed me, as though he was a professional. Well, he really was. 

“So, how do you know each other?” I asked, changing the subject. “Grade school? Or, just along the way?”

“Stu’s my manager,” Ed informed me proudly. “He’s forced to love me.”

“To love you?” Stuart snorted. “More like live with you.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning. “Then why don’t you stay in a hotel? Both of you? Why not just park the bus?”

“Gotta live the experience fully,” Ed told me. “I told Stuart he’s not allowed to leave the bus unless it’s an emergency.”

“And he specifically stated that the bus being on fire was not an emergency,” Stuart grumbled, pouring himself some tea.

I glanced down at my plate to hide my smile and took a bite of the waffles on the plate. “So,” Ed started. “Where are you from then? You don’t have a Liverpool accent.”

“Wales,” I said quietly. “North coast, by Holyhead. Little village, doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me,” Ed challenged. 

“Llaingoch,” I told them both. “Just a bit west.” I glanced at Stuart. “Smallest neighborhood I’ve ever seen.”

“Hmmm…” Ed nodded, “Never heard of it. Well, I have now, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you have,” I agreed.

“So, you two going to be strumming the ukeleles, then? Because I request permission to leave.”

Ed waved him off, “Away with you!”

“Oi, I can cancel shows,” Stuart threatened as he climbed out of the bus. There was a squeal of people outside and I tilted my head towards the window, my eyes widening a fraction at how many people there were.

“Woah.”

“Loads, yeah?” he agreed, glancing out there as well. “Well, we’ll just have to make them wait, then. Let’s hear the song-“

“But I haven’t finished,” I insisted. “You said I had until one!”

“Change of plans,” he took my empty plate and placed them in the sink as he rose. “So, come on, then, no time to dally-“

I rose and walked over to my guitar case, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper I had written on last night, and my guitar. I sat down near the corner of the sofa, and he sat down on the other end of the corner. A laptop seemed to just appear out of nowhere. He set it between us before clicking a few things on it. 

“Right, I took the liberty to record the guitar bits,” Ed said, clicking on something. The melody I strummed out yesterday began to play through the small speakers. “Like it?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, amazed. It sounded so much better than before. “What did you add?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. “Just cleaned it up a bit. We can add loops, and get the lyrics on.”

I glanced up at him, “Don’t you need a studio for it?”

“Not when you have a musical genius,” he insisted. “Besides, this is just a demo. Rough copy, if you will.”

I nodded, “Alright, what do I have to do?”

He grinned, “I like your attitude.”

I gave a shy smile and glanced down at my guitar to look away. I could feel the blush on my skin, and tapped a few strings to make a small hum echo throughout the RV. “So? What do I do?”

“Just sing it.”

He dug around a pile of papers and presented me a sheet of lyrics from yesterday in his handwriting. I read them over once, nodding to myself, before he leaned back and played with a few more buttons before pressing one.

“And, go.”

And then the official recordings of my demo began. 

 

CH. 5

 

With Stuart still gone, I made us some tea. It had been years since I had made tea, so it was a good refresher. I poured Ed a cup as well before setting it down beside him.

Nodding his head to some beat, his headphones half on, he gave me a thanks, not even sparing me a glance, as I sat back down in my seat. It was nearly noon, and I was already tired from the lack of sleep from the night before. I sipped my tea, loving how it was warming me up inside, and watched him in amusement for a few moments.

Finally, he pulled the headphones off and handed it to me. “Right, well, tell me what you think?”

I slid them on apprehensively, setting my teacup on the small coffee table. He waited a second before pressing play. 

At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. I thought it was someone else, and he was helping this person as well. But I recognized the lyrics. They were my lyrics. And my voice… was a lot better than I had remembered. It didn’t sound like a dying cat, which was always a plus. And it wasn’t anything compared to Ed’s own voice, but it wasn’t horrible, at least. 

But he added some loops and such to the main melody, making it three times what it was before.

“It’s amazing,” I insisted. “It doesn’t even sound like rubbish.”

“Of course it doesn’t!” Ed insisted. I pulled the headphones off and handed them back to him. He slid on over his ear, the other off, as he listened and started to click things. “Still tweaking, of course. But it’s basically what I think we could make it to sound like. You know how to use a loop pedal?”

“No,” I admitted. “Don’t even know what one is.”

He grinned, “Come on.”

“Come on?” I asked confused as he stood.

“Bring your guitar. Leave everything else. We’re going to the studio,” he disappeared into his bedroom as I rose and drank the rest of my warm tea. I moved towards the door and grabbed my shoes, sliding them on, and then grabbing my guitar and the lyrics sheets.

“Got the lyrics?” he asked, reentering the living room/kitchenette

I held up the papers as I fumbled with the guitar strap and secured it around my neck. Please, don’t let me mess up my guitar.

He had one of his guitars in his hands - I assumed he had many, as there was one resting beside the couch from earlier, and this one seemed to have a name on it… Lloyd? Interesting.

“Do you name all of your guitars?”

“Yup, I have six,” he stated proudly, slipping a zip up hooding over his t-shirt. He downed his warm tea and then shut the computer, stuffing it into a sac and throwing that, and his guitar, over his shoulder. “Felix, Lloyd, Cyril, Nigel, Trevor, and Jasper.”

“Are they like… friends?” I asked.

He laughed, “No. Just the best guitars in the world and names I’ve come across.” He glanced out the blinds that covered the windows. “Right… crowd control. Stick with me.”

“Who else would I be following?” I muttered to myself as the door opened.

He descended the steps and high pitched squeals sounded and pictures were taken.

I followed, and there was some excited murmurs. I rolled my eyes at the thoughts they were probably having. I shut the door behind me and Ed locked it with a key on a bracelet around his wrist. “Hey, guys,” he greeted them.

“Can I get a picture with you?” a girl asked him immediately following.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” Ed said, as if he was completely at ease. I was having a slight laugh from the steps.

“Are you his girlfriend?” the same girl asked as she had him sign her t-shirt.

“Nah, I’m just getting some advice,” I answered, awkwardly standing, still, on the stairs. “He was kind enough to provide the help.”

“I’m a good guy, what can I say?” Ed shrugged. He migrated through the crowd expertly, speaking to each one, in no rush at all. 

“Wait, can you sing something for us?” someone asked as Ed started to move away from the crowd.

Ed glanced at me, still close to him, but not unbearably so. I gave a shrug, “They’re your fans.”

“Want to do Crazy with me?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Me?”

“Yeah, why not? You have a guitar. You played it last night.”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Right, gather around. We haven’t much time. Got loads to teach her at the studio,” Ed announced to them. “This is Natalia.” I gave a shy wave, not knowing what else to do. “We’re going to do a quick mini-show and be on our way, sorry. Second verse?”

I adjusted my guitar in front of me and glanced at Ed, nodding. I could do . He started and began to softly strum. I played mirroring him and Ed started to sing.

His voice, especially with this song, was always so original. He seemed to know exactly what suited him, exactly how to make it his own. It was true art. 

“Does that make me crazy!?” Ed sang, rocking on his feet with the power of his voice. He glanced at me, “Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Probably…”

“And I hope that you are having the time of your life,” I sang, my eyes closing as I held the note. “But think twice, that’s my only advice,” I glanced at Ed Sheeran to see him nodding to the beat, his lips pressed together as though he was fighting the words back. I finished the verse and we shared the chorus before I let him take over. After all, they were his fans. And I was not known, at all.

“Can you play just one more!?” someone asked. “Please. You’re so amazing!”

Ed glanced at his wrist, which rested with a watch, before nodding, “Alright. We have time for one more.” I didn’t even know we were on a schedule. “What song?”

“They’re all yours,” I insisted. “You play for them.”

He thought for a second, “Can you play one part over and over again?”

I nodded slowly, “Yeah, what part?”

He grinned, “You’ll know it when you hear it.”

I put faith into him as he started to strum, and almost rolled my eyes as I recognized the tune.

“Could I wake up next to you,” Ed sang, causing the crowd of girls my age to squeal in delight. I immediatelly began strumming along with him, doing the background chords to the song, but melting out of the crowd. 

I tried to picture life as Ed’s. Living in the fame and spotlights and having food on the table and a warm bed and a secure roof over your head. It was almost hard to picture. It had been two years since I had that stuff, and now, I was pretty much dreading going back into that life. Who knew how long this tour thing would last - how big it’d make me. 

I didn’t think I’d be able to make it larger than being a city singer, but who knew. Ed was internationally famous. He could introduce me to the world… but I had to do what he assigned me.

So as I played, the words for the new version of the song just seemed to stick into my head with my new mindset.

After bidding our goodbyes, Ed and I walked down the street, and I mulled over the lyrics in my head. If I made it to where I could support myself, then I was going to be sure to keep it over my head for as long as possible.

“I have the lyrics,” I informed Ed as we turned the corner.

“You do now?”

I nodded, biting my lip in determination. “Yeah, I do. And these are perfect.”

“You sound very proud of these,” he seemed to notice.

I glanced at him, shrugging, “I can feel these lyrics. I don’t know. I just feel amazing. Like I’ve… I’ve found the key to what’s been holding the lyrics back. I think it’s open now.”

He grinned, “Yeah, see, what did I tell you? Only a matter of time.”

I nodded, still smiling, “So, why are we going to this studio?”

“Teaching you how to use a loop, of course,” he grinned. “And sending Jake your demo.”

“But there’s only like three songs.”

“Not once we finish at the studio,” he seemed to have a skip in his step as he glanced at me in excitement. “Ever been to a studio before?”

I frowned, “No…”

“Then we’ll take pictures of it,” he grinned, happy with the fact I had never been to a studio before.

 

Ch. 6

 

It was only a few blocks of walking, but it seemed to take a very long time. Perhaps it was the silence that followed between the two of us. 

“Righ, so, what kind of music do you like?”

“Well, you were in that pub last night, right?” I asked him. “Just about all of that kind of music.”

“So, you’ve heard my songs, before? All of them?”

I shook my head, “No, uh… I was visiting a friend that went off to Uni and she had that song playing when I got in. I asked about it, and kind of learned by ear, I guess…”

His expression, when I glanced at him, showed surprise, “You learn by ear?”

“Yeah, how else would I know most of the songs I do?” I asked, unsure of why he was so suprised.

“You don’t look up lyrics or chords? You don’t even listen to the song continuously?”

I gave a shrug, “No… I don’t have anything to listen to on repeat, so, I’ve learned to memorize it.”

“That’s pretty gifted,” he insisted. “I have to listen to a song at least fifty times… Or I just make up some chords that sound accurate.”

“Well, I make up chords too,” I gave a small laugh, blushing as I glanced at the pavement. “Hard to get it exactly right.”

I was introduced to a few people, who gave me handshakes, pats on the backs, warm smiles, before I was pulled by Ed into the studio room. “Right, here’s the studio.”

I glanced around, “Not really as confusing as it’s hyped up to be, is it?”

“Nah,” he smirked. “So… this is the loop pedal,” he walked over to a shorter mic and said, “My name is Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed.”

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, “What…?”

He took his foot off the loop pedal and “My name is Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed. My name is Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed.” filled the room. “Oh, that is cool,” I murmured.

“Yeah, it really is.” He did something to clear the loop and then glanced towards the glass wall, where there were some tech people. “Hey, record this. We’re going to make her an EP.”

“But I only have-“

He smirked, “We still have a few days in Liverpool. We can get you all you need.”

“Oh…” I said dumbly. He gave me a quick smile before turning back to the mic. It was orange. Really? Orange… of course. Ginger.

“So, which song first?” he asked.

“Uh…” I glanced at the sheets of paper that I had stuffed in my pocket when Ed’s fans arrived. Though they were a bit bent up, it was easy to make out the lyrics. “This one.”

“Right, have at it,” he gestured for me to start. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted.

He chuckled a bit, “Right, sorry. Ear phones.” He pulled the headseat off the mic in front of me and I pulled them off my head. “Do a normal run through of the song. Then, we’ll go back after we have a perfect take and we’ll add bits in.”

“Oh, alright,” I nodded. 

“I’ll be on the other side,” Ed told me, before exiting through the doors. 

Nervously I checked to make sure my guitar was in tune before glancing at the papers in my other hand. I had the lyrics memorized, already. It was all that had been playing through my head last night. And we had gone over them like fifty times.

I bit my lip and glanced through the ‘window’ towards Ed and a few of his buddies. 

“Right, start when you’re ready,” someone stated. I had forgotten their name, but nodded anyway.

I started to strum, and I took a deep breath before I began to sing. The lyrics and the chords went together in an almost perfect harmony. After the first run-through, they played it back for me to hear. The same song Ed had on his laptop earlier. My eyes darted to the window to see him talking to the editor and, though I couldn’t see the switchboard, I could see the very top of his laptop. They must have been discussing something.

“Hey, Natalia,” Ed’s voice came over the speaker. “Why don’t you do the harmony? The ooo-oh-oh.”

I nodded, “Can you play it all back, and I like… add those in?”

“Yup, you know what to do, Eric.”

Eric, that was his name.

The song played back and I added the harmony’s in the right spots, “That’s fantastic!” Eric stated. “Playback?”

“Please,” I grinned. This was exhilerating. I could hear it as I was singing it, and I could hear the music as I finished. And it was like I was listening to myself on a media player or something. It just… made my whole dream seem that much more real.

 

Ch. 7

 

“What do you think?” Ed asked during lunch break, the three songs we had written that morning, completed.

“It’s amazing,” I insisted. “But…This has to cost loads. I have three quid in my pocket. And I can’t afford this. I know you pay like three hundred pounds an hour-“

“It’s on me,” he assured me, taking a bite of his cheeseburger three seconds later.

I swallowed a chip nearly whole as I protested, “But I can’t-“

“Relax,” he insisted. “Consider my birthday present enough-“

“But I didn’t-“

“You will,” he grinned. “February seventeenth.”

Five months from now. “Oh… okay.”

“Like, a limited edition lego set,” he went on. “Now, that would definitely make up for it.”

I gave a small laugh, picking another chip out of the basket and eating it, “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“So, I kinda just pulled you off the street and I don’t know anything about you,” Ed admitted, cutting into his fish. “What can you tell me?”

“Well…” I paused, wiping my greasy fingers off on the napkin beside my plate. “I’m nineteen. I was born in Wales… My name is Natalia Rascu, but my friends in school just had me go by Nat or Talia. I’m wicked at hopscotch and skipping stones.” He paused from grabbing a chip and glanced at me in surprise. “And… I live on the streets. Not much else to say, really.”

“Go to school? Uni?”

“Got my A levels in Music and History,” I shrugged. “I never really liked school.”

“Same.”

“Oh?” I said, surprised. 

“Yeah, once I graduated from high, I was done,” he took a sip of some soda and took another bite of his fish. “So, you skip stones?”

I shrugged, “Haven’t in a while. Haven’t gone to a beach, really.”

“Well, lucky for you tour starts in Cardiff then, huh? We’ll go to the beach,” he declared. 

I glanced at my plate, “Where are you going for the tour?”

“We’re going to Cardiff, Swansea, all along the Welsh coast, then we’ll stop in Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield, Oxford, Cambridge. All the big ones. I’ll stop in Suffolk, see me mum and dad for a weekend or so, head to London for a week, then we’ll swing down to Paris, then fly to Dublin and do a few Irish gigs, and then go to Scotland.”

My eyes widened about three places in, “That’s a lot of places.”

“Yeah, I don’t know the exact order, so you’d have to ask Stu, but it’s going to be massive.”

Massive. “Wow…”

He grinned, “But first things first, I have to make sure I can’t lose you.”

“Sorry?” I asked, surprised.

“Guess who’s joining mainstream,” he stood, leaving his plate on the table of the tour bus as he moved towards his rucksack, containing his laptop. He pulled it out and sat back down across from me, flicking through a few pages before turning it towards me. “We need to make you a twitter.”

“Why?” I asked, glancing up at him as he went to another website to make me an email address.

“Because, you’re not going to be able to keep track of tour info, keep in touch with fans, and get ahold of other artists without it,” he rattled off. “Password?”

“Uh… pinneapples?” I said randomly.

He laughed a bit, but typed it anyway. And then he did whatever he needed to do to set me up with Twitter. Honestly, I had nothing to update it with, so why did I need one?

“Birthday?”

“November ninth.”

“Next month,” he observed.

I shrugged uncomfortably, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“First day of tour,” he observed.

I gave another shrug, “Yeah.”

“You’ll be how old?”

“Twenty,” I nodded.

“And you going to see family or anything?”

I shook my head, “Nah.”

“I see… Favourite colour?”

I raised an eyebrow, “Green, why does that matter?”

“Didn’t,” he laughed. “So, how do you celebrate your birthday?”

I gave another shrug, “Nothing special. Really.”

He rolled his eyes, “Alright then..” He typed a few more things before turning the laptop around and clicking a few tabs as he stood so he could lean across the table. “This is Twitter. Say hello!”

“Um, hello,” I said slowly.

“Right, then, this is tell someone something. Type something about yourself.”

I glanced at the keys and typed something.

“I like fried chicken?” he asked. “Perfect. And press send.”

I moved the mouse and clicked send, “Now what?”

I glanced up, but he was already taking the mouse from me and clicking something else. “This is your email. Password for everything is Pineapples.”

“Okay…” I read the address, “Why did you pick that?”

“They’re song lyrics… that’s why,” he insisted. “On the first song written that was yours.”

“I know…” I gave a brief smile as I glanced up at him, “I just was wondering, is all.”

He rolled his eyes and clicked another page, “This is facebook.”

“Oh, I used to have one of these,” I said, remember. I sat up straighter in my seat. “Yeah, in high school.”

“Then we can just use that one and delete this one, then.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I used my mum’s email address, I remember. Because I’ve never had one.”

“Well, do you remember it?”

“Of course, it’s my parents anniversary,” I deleted the facebook page before logging in another one. The website was a bit different, but I managed. “See?”

A much younger face smiled at the camera, my arms around a few friends. Ed walked around the table and I scooted over in my chair so he could have some room. He squeezed on, smushing me against the tourbus wall. “Look at this… They all think you died.”

I blushed, “Well, I don’t see them all the time, and they can’t contact me… I stop by every holiday.”

“Apparently not enough,” Ed commented. He flicked down my timeline and read posts aloud, “Hey, Nat? Are you ever coming back?” He scrolled down. “RIP Nat. Best lass in school.”

I swallowed, “Oh.”

“Well… you going to write something on there, or…?”

I nodded slowly, reaching for the mouse. I scrolled to the top and clicked the status box. I began typing, “Not dead, though I do appreciate the good wishes.” I sent that and then typed another, “Just heading around the country a bit, and not having any internet or any means of contact info.” I sent that, and then sighed, “Say hi to Ed?”

I added a picture button and glanced at Ed, “May I?”

“Yeah, might as well make it believable, yeah?”

He gave a peace sign and I gave a stuck out tongue to the camera of his laptop. And then I hit publish.

“You’re such a dork,” I insisted, logging out and turning the laptop back to him. It was his, afterall.

“Jealous,” he insisted. He typed something away and I recognized it as youtube. That, also, had changed.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking out covers,” he answered. 

But instead he typed in my name. I glanced at him strangely, “Do you know how to properly stalk someone?”

“Learning.”

“Well letting me know doesn’t help,” I insisted.

“I’ll get to the covers eventually. Ooo, lookey here.”

My eyes widened as I saw the video. He pressed play and a younger version of myself was on the screen, on stage, with a guitar hanging from my neck and a beer in one hand.

“Alright, you lot. I’m pissed off my arse and one of you are going to give me a song.” I chugged the beer and tossed the plastic cup to the side. “You there! Yeah, in the pink hoodie. What song?”

There was a shout of something intelligable, but my face was already buried in my hands.

“When was this, then?” Ed asked.

“Ugh, my seventeenth,” I groaned. “Turn it off.”

“Who filmed it?”

“Some girls from the school I went to. They posted it online and it went viral in my school.”

“And so what? You got pissed.”

“You’ll see,” I sighed. “Or turn it off, would be nice.”

Instead of listening, the video kept going. “Right, this is Lil Bird by that ginger bloke, Ed Sheeran. I think that’s his name…”

“Ginger bloke?”

“A friend of mine had your CD,” I mumbled through my hands.

I started to burst out the song in a drunken stupor and get lyrics wrong, but at least I made it through the song.

Ed started to chuckle, “So… this is your teen years, yeah?”

“First and last time I ever drank,” I sighed, I peaked through my fingers at him. “Never again.”

“You seem a spitfire,” Ed laughed.

I rolled my eyes, “I was horrible. God, completely made me the laughing stock for weeks.”

“At least you don’t sound bad,” he insisted. “You actually sound great.”

“Yeah, like a cat that drowned in the Irish sea,” I shot back.

“Nah…” though he was squishing me against the wall, he didn’t move. “So, I have to head to the venue at four for soundcheck. You’re coming, right?”

I glanced at him in surprise, “To your gig?”

“Yeah.”

“Um… if you want.”

“Of course. You gotta see how it’s like, because one day, you’ll be playing to a crowd that big.”

“Doubt that,” I insisted. “I’ll be a hundred tops.”

“Not when you open for me,” he smirked. 

I swallowed, “Oh… How long is a set for opening?”

“Eh, half hour.”

My eyes widened, “But I only have three songs…”

“We have a month,” he insisted. “We just need an EP for merchendise on tour to sell.”

“Oh… that makes sense,” I admitted.

“So… we can get you probably ten more songs, and that way you’ll have some variety.”

“You’re doing so much to help…” I started, “I-“

“I just,” he interrupted, “want to help someone that wants this life more than anything. You deserve this, so guess who’s going to be helped out.”

I glanced at my hands, folded on the table in front of me. “You give me anything to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll owe my life for this.”

Ed smirked, “Grab your things. We’re going to the studio. And then straight to the concert.”

“Oh… okay,” I waited until he moved out of the seat before unsquishing myself from the corner and rushing to pack my guitar into my bag. 

“Oh, and don’t forget a sweatshirt. Might rain.”

Right, rain. All England did. I grabbed the jacket from on top of the guitar case, and shoved it inside, under the neck of the guitar. I snapped it shut and then glanced at Ed to see him with two guitar cases, his rucksack, and a hoodie on his arms. Hot from the studio, he had taken his hoodie off from earlier.

“You seem very … dressed up.”

“I go on stage in what I wear,” he shrugged. “You coming?”

I nodded, grabbing my case and standing. “No where else, have I?”

 

Ch. 8

 

I shook hands with the bubbly blonde woman that was standing in front of me back stage. “Natalia,” I introducted myself.

“Leanne,” she brightly smiled. “So, are you here because of a competition you won?”

I shook my head, giggling a bit, “No… uh, Ed brought me here. Something about seeing a real show.”

“Oh, are you two… together?” she asked.

I shook my head immediately, “No, no. Not like that. I, uh, just met him this morning, actually, around one in the morning.”

“Oh, well that’s great! Welcome to the circle. Here, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

I was introduced to a few of Ed’s friends, and some couple. “Right, this is Reina and Lach.”

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled at them. “Natalia Rascu… uh, friend.”

“Cheers,” Lach responded.

Reina, who gave me a bright smile, reached for my hand, “Come on. We’re going to get the best seats in the house.”

Leanne and her, giggling, moved us over to near the edge of the curtain, where we could clearly see Ed on stage, singing just about every song he wrote.

The three of us sat on the ground, cross legged, and I absorbed the lyrics. The words. The songs seemed to unravel their tales in front of me. Reina’s boyfriend came around and sat next to her, presenting all of us with drinks. I glanced down at the beer bottle, and fidgeted with the cap a bit, but never opened it.

Reina was quite a pretty girl with curly brown hair that was braided messily down her back. And Lach was actually quite fair, and in fact, almost Swedish in palor, with his blonde hair and blue eyes.

“So, I, uh, have a story for all of you,” Ed spoke into the mic.

There were some cheers and Leanne laughed, “He always tells stories. I swear, sometimes he loves it more than music.”

“So, I met a girl yesterday,” Ed started. There were loads of whistles as they got the completely wrong idea. “No, it’s not what you think. She was singing down in Liverpool Tavern, right? Had nothing but her guitar and the clothes on her back.” I blushed, glancing at the cool unopened beer in my hands. “And I said, you know what? Yolo. I need a supporting act. So… Natalia?” he glanced towards me. My eyes widened in surprised. “Wanna come on out here, please?”

Leanne squealed and helped me to my feet. She grabbed my beer and rushed to get me on stage. And I nearly tripped exiting the curtains.

I swallowed nervously as I walked towards Ed. I gave a polite wave to the crowd that seemed to go nuts.

“So, Natalia here has this little idea…” Ed smirked like he was in on some joke. “You see, she wrote some lyrics to one of my songs.” My eyes widened as I realized what he was talking about. “So, what do you say?”

I spotted the extra mic that seemed to have been discreetly placed beside his loop pedal. I nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

Ed glanced off stage, towards where I had come from, and I saw Leanne holding my guitar and gesturing me over. I nervously grabbed it from her before walking back out to the center stage. I glanced out at the stage, unable to see the back of the sea of people. My God, this was huge. This was normal for him.

“Oh, yeah, and one more thing,” Ed hit a few strings of his guitar. “She’s a supporting act for my tour next month. Let’s give her lots of love! Natalia Rascu, everybody.”

There were some cheers and I tweaked my guitar before nodding. He began to strum and the crowd went wild. They obviously recognized it. “Hope you like this version,” Ed said, repeating the intro once more. I joined this time and began.

“Maybe this is overdue,  
Like a library book.  
Float around town with no real job to most.   
Could my fate be any clearer? Everything’s such a blur,  
It’s my turn to be heard on telly first.  
It’s a lame ride, making up way too many lame rhymes.  
Dying to get ahold of my name  
I fly through the next line  
Maybe next it’s primetime  
Push it through And I keep my head high,” I finished, unable to stop the smile from creeping up on me. Those lyrics were probably the best I had come up with yet. And by the way the crowd cheered, I really hope that meant they liked it.

Ed and I sang the chorus before he did the second verse, just as we had recorded not even four hours earlier.

Third verse was mine, once more. “When I don’t know,   
there’s so much more that I… can use for my songs, say   
I wanna sing ‘em all day,   
and listen to ‘em on replay-ay-ay.   
It’s not a homeless life for me, it’s just I’m homeless than I’d like to be….”

The last chord echoed throughout the place and I bit my lip, stepping back from the mic, as I glanced at Ed. The crowd absolutely roared. It wasn’t for me, I knew that. Ed was what they came for, Ed was who they cheered for.

“Natalia Rascu, everybody!” Ed shouted.

I laughed, waiting a moment in the cheers, before leaning forward into the mic and shouting back, “Give it up for Ed Sheeran, yeah?”

The cheers grew monumentally loud and I glanced at Ed, “Thank you…”

“Lots more where this came from,” Ed said.

I waved to the crowd before walking off the stage.

Behind the cover of the curtains, I sat back down in my seat on the ground, “Holy shit. I just played for like a few thousand, didn’t I?” I murmured to myself.

“You were amazing,” Leanne insisted.

“Wicked, how long have you been playing?” Lach asked.

I shrugged, “Teens, um… yeah, fourteen.”

“You were brilliant,” Reina smiled. “So, you’re doing a tour with him?”

“I guess,” I gave a small laugh, “He just told me I’d open…”

“You’re opening for him?” Leanne’s eyes widened. “Wow, how’d that happen in twenty-four hours?”

I shook my head laughing, “I don’t even know.”

Ed did a few more songs before announcing that he’d be doing his last song, which also so happened to be You Need Me, I Don’t Need You. Well, I figured that was the title, because he repeated the line about fifty times. He thanked the crowd, and then gave a bow. And he came off stage. Immediately Leanne was up and congratulating him, as were the couple. I gave him a brief smile, “You were amazing. Way better than my friend’s CD.”

He laughed, “Thanks. I sure hope so.”

“And thanks for that… it was exhilerating.”

“There will be lots more where that came from,” he insisted. “So, you lot, let’s head back, yeah? A little party?”

 

Ch. 9

 

She could hear the snores coming from the bunk beds and Ed's room. They had all gotten pissed drunk, doing God-awful karaoke, while Natalia did her best to focus on her music. She hadn't drunk anything, not wanting to get into it like her awful seventeenth, and instead sat in the far corner of the couch, her guitar on her lap and a notepad and pen at her side. She gently tugged at the strings so that there was very minimal sound, and definitely not loud enough that they would wake up.

She didn't want to wake them up. Natalia sipped from her cold tea before she jotted down a few lyrics. They were horrible and she'd have to work on them day in and day out just to make it even something others would listen to, let alone her, but it was a start. Ed had told her - despite being drunk - that she should think of it as poetry. All music was emotion at its finest and if she could find one emotion, zone in on it, and place it with a situation and a beat, she had a song.

Ed had gone onto tell her that he changed his songs all the time. Even ones that had already been recorded and sold, he changed lyrics to improve his music.

She always had that chance, at least, to improve her work. She reached for her tea just as someone gave a snort in their sleep. Natalia froze, praying no one woke up, but it was no use. She heard the bedroom door open and her eyes darted to the clock at the front of the RV, where the driver sat. It was nearly five in the morning. God, did she stay up that long? She hadn't meant to.

Ed shuffled out, his body clad in a t-shirt and he was still in his jeans from earlier. He must have really just passed out. He didn't seem to see her as he opened the fridge and grabbed a water. He turned around as the fridge shut and as he opened it, his eyes went to her form. "Why are you up? It's dark out." His voice was husky from his obvious lack of sleep and his eyes were squinting, telling Natalia that he either didn't have contacts in, or he was just not used to the light she had on beside her.

"Can't sleep," she admitted. "So, I'm doing some music."

"How are you not tired?" he muttered, rubbing his face as he lumbered over. Natalia moved the notebook and slid her guitar so that it rested against her legs, giving him room on the couch. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

"Lord of the Rings," he smirked at her before yawning. He reached for the laptop, his bottle of water between his crossed legs, and propped it open. "Ever seen it before?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid," Natalia snorted. "My dad was big into all that epic fantasy stuff. Every Sunday we watched one of the three. Holidays, we watched all three. You're really into that stuff, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," he nodded emphatically. She rolled her eyes as he flicked on the iTunes and opened the downloaded movie. He reached for the headphones, the ones with the in ear plugs, and connected them before passing her one of the buds. "It's a long movie. You might want to get a blanket or something." She hesitated briefly before deciding that was wise and walking towards her bed, careful of Reina and Lach across from her, and snatched the blanket before sneaking back to the couch. Ed took a sip of his water, his hands prying open his glasses a second later, and he put them on the bridge of his nose before shutting off the light.

Natalia took precautions of placing her guitar back in its case before she curled up in her blanket and placed the earbud in. Ed pressed play and the epic journey between the Fellowship and Mordor began. She didn't realize she was getting more into the movie, until she caught herself twisting her dark, curly hair as if she had a nervous habit. Despite Ed being tired before, when she glanced at him he seemed wide awake. Her own eyes, however, felt droopy. She clutched a pillow that was beside her and hugged it to her chest, resting her chin upon it, and her eyes darting around the screen. It had been years since she had seen the movie. Her father's passing had ended all fantasy movies in her life, and this brought bittersweet memories. She felt like she was a kid again, like she was just learning how to play.

And she remembered her parents for what she thought they'd want to be remembered by - the moments they spent together.

There was still an hour left when she closed her eyes for just a moment. But that moment turned into a deep sleep she couldn't shake herself from.

It was when she was at her deepest of sleep that she had the nightmares. Having spent two years on the road, well, she was bound to see something she shouldn't have. Her eyes darted to the burning building, the smoke choking at her lungs. She was standing on the street, with the rest of the crowd. Her jumper was almost too hot as the heat of the flames made her feel like it was a hot summer's day.

"Did someone call the fire department?" someone called. It was completely engulfed. There was no way anyone could get out, or in. Natalia stumbled as someone pushed against her, her guitar case knocking into her legs.

She needed to wake up. She needed to wake up right now. There was a scream that pierced the air, a scream of someone in the fire. "Oh, God," people murmured, their eyes going wide. Natalia couldn't. She felt queasy and faint. Someone was screaming. Someone was burning alive.

"Mama!" it cried. A child. Natalia felt sick. Her eyes watered and she glanced at the people beside her. No one was doing anything. She didn't know if there was anything anyone could do. Natalia felt her guitar case slip from her fingers.

"Water, we need to get water," she whispered. There was screaming again. Louder, she grabbed the person next to her. "Water. Get some water. Get others. We'll get water until the fire department arrives." They didn't seem to hear her. "Water!"

Natalia gasped as she jerked upright. The earbud fell out of her ear and she saw Ed leaning against the wall, a cup of tea in his hands. "Tea?"

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to catch her own breath. "That'd be lovely."

He gave her the tea cup in his hands and she liked how it was warm. She felt so cold. "Uh, nightmare?"

"Yeah, uh, fire a while ago. A little girl died." Natalia sipped from the tea, glancing at him as he fumbled with his pockets for a second. "Fire department didn't get there in time." She sipped from the tea again before setting it down on a coaster. "What time is it?"

"About four, I'd say," Ed admitted. "They've all gone for some fish and chips. We can catch up, if you'd like."

"Why didn't you go with them?" Natalia asked, confused. He obviously looked dressed like he was ready to leave.

"There's a few songs I'm going to finish up," he admitted. "I was going to head to the studio, if you wanted to join me. I'd just be recording, but you probably don't want to sit all by yourself in a musty RV and no decent food to make up a meal. We can stop on the way."

"Oh," she was surprised by the offer. "Um, well, okay. I mean, I should probably clean up. Do I have time for that?"

"Session starts at six, so yeah." Ed had his glasses on and he adjusted them as Natalia stood up and gathered her blanket up as she moved towards the bathroom, grabbing some of her clothes from the foot of the bed. "You don't have a cell phone do you?"

"Nah, couldn't keep paying me service," Natalia replied honestly. "I kept the sims card, but sold it off to some guy for a few quid. Why?" She paused at the door of the bathroom, glancing back at Ed as he leaned against the wall once more, his arms crossed against his chest.

"How are we supposed to keep in touch if you can't?"

She frowned. "Oh, well, I... uh." She didn't know. "Not sure, actually. When I get money, I, uh... _if_ I get money, that is, I'll get a phone or something."

 


End file.
